Madelaina:
As the afternoon sky bleeds into the inky blackness of autumn evening, my anxiety begins to grow.
I pace the kitchen, refusing to have a mental breakdown or eat one of the cookies from the tray that lies temptingly on the countertop.
If I do, I might just throw up.
I've been thinking about today since Althea dropped me off and I can't stop. She says I shouldn't feel guilty but I can't help myself.
I may or may not have gotten something in the midst of my own items that may or may not be for him.
As a guilt-slash-I'm-sorry-for-stealing-your-credit-card-and-spending-nearly-a-hundred-thousand-dollars gift.
At least I did that, right?
I decide that I should probably at least have something to eat since I haven't had anything after returning a few hours ago.
Warming up a glass of milk, I fill a plate with the cookies and make my way upstairs.
"Are you alright, Madonna? You are looking a little pale." Rose asks as I reach the top of the stairs.
"I'm fine. Just a little hungry. I'll be fine after I eat this." I answer, displaying my tray before continuing on to my bedroom.
I set the tray onto the table beside my bed and plug in my phone.
Since I haven't got anything else to do, I decide to take a quick shower and change into some comfy pyjamas.
The milk was piping when I first brought it up so now it has cooled to the perfect temperature.
I drink at the same time as completing my post evening shower routines. Lighting some candles, putting out a bowl for Salem, oiling my hair, skincare and grabbing my laptop before getting into bed. It's normally a book but I am currently in a slump that seems like it wants to stay for a while.
I am two episodes into Fate: The Winx Sage and two cookies short of running out when there is a knock on my door.
Pausing the show, I look over to the door. "Come in!"
It opens and Rose peeks her head through, her dark skin looking warm and gold in the candlelight.
"You have a visitor, Madonna."
My eyebrows scrunch a little. "A visitor?"
She nods and nervously flicks her eyes between in and out of the door.
"Who is it?"
A low voice sounds from behind her and although I cannot make out who it is, my heart begins to beat against my ribs.
Please don't be him, please don't be him.
She turns her head to me with wide eyes and I sit up a little straighter. "Let them in. You can go downstairs. I'll call you if I need anything."
She releases a breath and moves away, allowing the visitor to step inside.
Oh no. I asked for it not to be him!
"Evening, Principessa."
I jump out of bed and take a step back., holding out my hands as if he's a wild animal ready to attack at any moment. "Let me explain."
His brows furrow and he tilts his head. "Explain what?"
My pulse races and I will myself to calm down.
Does he not know? Has he not noticed? What else would he be here for?
"Nothing." I amend. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugs and tucks his hands into his trouser pockets. "My mamma asked me to bring some stuff over for yours."
"And why does that mean you need to be in my room, exactly?"
"It doesn't."
"Why are you here then?"
"I came here to collect something of mine."
So he does know?
"Collect something...?" My voice trails off as he takes slow steps in my direction.
"Mhm." He hums, coming closer.
He doesn't stop when he is near, just keeps going. Driving me back until my legs hit the bed and I fall sitting onto it.
He leans down, caging me in with each of his arms of either side of me, his hands placed onto the bed. His breaths mingling with mine and our noses almost touching.
"What do you need to collect?" They are less than a whisper but it's as if my head hears them a thousand times louder.
"A great many things, Principessa. But from you, right now, I believe you left with something that belongs to me."
He knows. Dio mio, what do I do?
He moves impossibly closer, his lips a centimetre from mine. His breath is warm and he is so near that I can practically taste it. It's richness and sweetness making me believe he is as big of a fan of chocolate as I am.
Words are unable to leave my tongue, let alone conjure in my brain.
"What are you doing?" I manage. Barely. Because seriously...what is he doing?
My eyes stare right into his, the moment reminding me of last night when we were together in his library. What we were doing. Had we not been interrupted....
I feel the slightest touch of his lips on mine. So soft I think I may have even imagined it. A whisper drifting by.
But suddenly, he moves upright and instead, takes a seat against my headboard.
"I'm waiting." He replies, resting his head back and looking at the ceiling before slanting it back and looking at me.
I take a breath prior to asking, "What did I take, exactly?"
He waits a beat. "My clothes."
Oh.
So...he doesn't know?
"Well?" His deep voice brings me out of it. "I don't have all night, Principessa."
Rolling my eyes at the fact he can go from stealing my senses to settling back into asshole form so quickly, I stand to go and retrieve his clothes.
I know I shouldn't, that it doesn't matter and doesn't affect anything. But I cannot help checking myself in the mirror when stepping into my closet.
Once I take a few moment to ensure I look okay, I pick up the folded pile from my ottoman and turn around.
A burning feeling that I believe is guilt, has me faltering.
If he didn't mention it, and he is the kind of impressionable person who would, he mustn't know.
Unless he does know and just isn't saying anything. But I don't see what that will do.
I shake my head and hurry back into the room.
He has made himself comfortable, placing a pillow behind his bed and finishing off the cookie in his hand.
"I thought you didn't have all night."
"I don't."
"It certainly looks like you do."
"If you wish for me to stay, Principessa," he starts, quirking a brow. "All you have to do is ask."
I scoff and grab a pillow from the edge of the bed, hitting his leg with it. "You have your clothes. Go home now."
"So demanding." He tuts. "Not a way to treat a guest, now is it?"
"What do you want?" Every second he's still here is moving my conscience further to its brink.
He pauses, seeming to think for a moment. Then suddenly, "Are you sure that's everything?"
I look down at the little pile and realise that, in fact, it isn't everything.
I feel hot as I rush back to my closet to retrieve his boxers that didn't come up with the sweatshirt and socks.
When I turn, I hesitate. Then make a decision so fast, I'm not fully aware that I'm doing it.
I return to the room, picking up his clothes and once again, entering the closet. I did it so fast, I didn't even look at him.
I slip the card out of my phone case and slide it into the pocket of the sweatshirt, before refolding it and placing it into a bag with the rest of his things.
Dio, what on earth am I doing?
I hurry back into my room and hand him the bag.
He raises a brow and then takes it from me, his fingers brushing mine.
He peers into the bag and then snakes a hand in. A smirk looks as if it's about to break out on his lips when his hand stops moving. And he meets my eyes.
When he removes his hand, the card is being held between his middle and forefinger.
"I've been looking for this everywhere." His voice is low. Not accusatory at all.
"Have you?" Mine is quiet and slightly bourse.
He nods. "I thought I lost it. I guess it was in the pocket the entire time."
He shows no behaviour out of the ordinary and yet I am counting each breath from both me and him.
"I guess it was." I swallow, not meeting his eye.
He slowly moves to stand from the bed and walks to me, just like before. No stopping.
"Did you know it was in there?" He asked.
"Um." I take steps back as he takes them forward.
"You didn't take it out, did you?"
"I-" My back hits the wall opposite of the bed and he stops mere inches away from me. His head towering over mine.
"Madelaina."
Madelaina. Not Principessa or Della.
Madelaina.
Why does that sound, the sweet sound of my name on his tongue, make me wish to hear it again and again until I could hear nothing else?
"Yes?" I breathe.
"Answer my question."
"Question?" He asked me a question?
Yes, he asked you a question, you idiot. A very important one having to do with his credit card that you stole.
"Yes. My question." He shifts so that his legs are of either side of mine, his face now merely centimetres away. "Answer it ."
It's too hot. My head too fuzzy and my limbs too weak. I attempt to break past him but he settles his hands on my waist. Brushing his thumbs over the material of my sweatshirt and inhaling a breath.
"Did you at least enjoy it?" His lips brush my ear.
What? Did I...?
Oh. My. Gosh.
"You- Y- Heathen."
"I don't think you're the one who should be throwing around names now, Principessa. Do you?" He lets that smirk free. Devil.
"I- I just-"
"You just..."
"You were being a royal ass." I try and argue, my words struggling. "You've been a royal ass. I just wanted to do something that I thought would make you mad. Just like you've done to me."
"How did I make you mad?" He looks genuinely confused and it causes my brows to scrunch.
"You stole my ring. My favourite ring."
He briefly looks to the golden band that still encircles his pinky finger.
"And you've been rude. Ever since I've met you. You've been rude to me. I did nothing to you and still you were. I know it was wrong and I shouldn't have done it. Trust me, I've been feeling guilty all day. But I-"
My words are cut off my his mouth on mine.
The moment is so quick. So sudden. That at first, I don't register it happening at all.
And then, as if they take on an otherworldly presence altogether, my emotions crash into me all at once.
My skin burns and then it burns even more. His lips scorching against mine.
My mind races and my heart pounds with the force of a thousand-man army.
A noise escapes me that I didn't even know I could make and it causes him to push further.
His fingers grip me almost as tightly as mine do to him, my own venturing into his thick hair. Pulling him closer.
His mouth devours mine. Hungry. As if he is a man starved and I am a feast laid out on a golden table.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips and my mouth opens, allowing him in to weaken me even more.
I feel his chest against mine, the thumping of our hearts in rhythm with one another.
I gasp when his hands slide underneath my sweatshirt and hold me there. Skin on skin. Heat on heat.
Is this what it feels like to burn alive?
His mouth moves from my lips to my cheek, then my jaw and then my neck. Trailing white hot kisses on his way, leaving invisible imprints in his wake.
One of my hands tugs on his hair while the other clutches his sweatshirt so tightly I'm surprised it's still attached to the rest of the material.
A loud crash sounds from outside of my room and it makes me jump.
His head rises from where it was buried in my neck and he fixes his eyes onto mine.
We stare at each other. Our lips tinted red and our gazes aflame.
He rests his forehead onto mine, our noses pressing together.
"Fuck." He breathes.
I can't believe that just happened. Especially after so many incidents of me saying that I shouldn't like him. That he is a bad decision. A darkness as alluring as it is dangerous.
Wait- What does this mean? I mean, it doesn't mean we're together. It was just a kiss - the most incredible kiss I couldn't have imagined in my wildest of fantasies - but still just a kiss.
I bite my lip, half out of hunger and half out of nervousness.
"Don't do that." His voice warns, hot and heavy. "Or else i can't be responsible for what happens next."
"What happens next?"
"Blasphemous things, Principessa." He rubs his nose over mine.
"You mean dirty things." I narrow my eyes slightly. I may be questioning whether or not he is still a devil or fallen angel right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I still think he is a heathen.
Only now, I think it might excite me.
"Fucking hell, baby." He curses. Closing his eyes as if it can stop himself from temptation.
I can't help but giggle a little at that. The fact that he can kiss me like that and then hold back like he's doing me some favour.
He reopens his eyes, green irises glowing in the candlelight.
A grin breaks free on a laugh and that sound - that beautiful sound - almost brings me to my knees.
"You should go." I say after a moment.
"I should." He replies. Not moving an inch.
"Now?" I emphasise.
"And if I don't want to?" He quirks a brow. Mischief flashing in his features.
"Then you'll get caught. And traumatise Rose. And everyone else in the house. And then be viciously murdered by my father."
"I'm not scared." He murmurs against my lips. "I'm not scared of anything. In fact, I think that would be a divine way to go."
I grab onto his shoulders as my breath hitches.
Pushing him away, I try my best to hide a smile of my own. "Go."
"As you wish, Principessa." He pockets his hands, almost like he's physically trying not to touch me, and walks backwards, keeping eye contact while doing so.
When he reaches the door, he turns the handle and I remember something.
"What about your clothes?"
"Keep them." He shrugs. A smirk creeping up onto his swollen lips. "They look good on you."
"And your card?" My words come out breathless.
"Buy something else. I have my phone."
"You're letting me keep it?"
"Let's go with borrow. For now." He takes one last look at me. "Goodnight." His eyes flare. "Belladonna."